


A Birth Story

by Ladyofwarandmercy



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Babies, F/M, Gen, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, birth story, mentions of baby poop, post-redemption
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-14
Updated: 2014-10-14
Packaged: 2018-02-21 03:09:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2452529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladyofwarandmercy/pseuds/Ladyofwarandmercy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The big day has come for, Skye, Grant, the entire team, and the newest member!</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Birth Story

Even though Grant was technically on “paternity leave” in anticipation of the birth, he was still awake much earlier than Skye, especially nowadays. He used this time the past week or so to talk to the little one he could see squirming in Skye’s belly, very much awake as her mother slept. It was important to Grant that little Hope Melinda Ward would know her father’s voice as well as she would know her mother’s. But this morning, Hope wasn’t moving much. When Grant brushed a hand on Skye’s belly, it was rock-hard, and the mere touch woke Skye up. “Man, that was a kick,” Skye said, dreamily, “Good morning, Daddy.” Skye rolled over to her side of the bed in order to go to the bathroom, only to fall on the pillows Jemma had suggested they lay beside Skye’s side of the bed. Grant scooped her up to sit her on the toilet, as he called FitzSimmons. Leo Fitzsimmons picked up, cheery, but tired. “Morning, Grant. Guess I’m up for a run.” Grant shook his head, having forgotten that he had invited Fitz along. “The run might have to wait. Skye’s belly was hard this morning, and she suddenly can’t walk. Is there something wrong?” “OH,” Fitz answered, “Jemma’s indisposed at the moment. Philip, Prince of Blowouts had another one, and I got the last one at 4AM. But we will get Mack to send up a pushchair and meet you all in Medical. Don’t worry, Skye’s probably in labor. Other than the walking part, it was the same with Jemma.” Within a few minutes, Mack knocked on the door. Grant then knocked on the bathroom door to ask if Skye was decent. When she said she was, Grant picked her up again, and put her in the wheelchair as if she were a delicate bomb. He grabbed Skye’s favorite throw from the couch, and threw it over her. As they went down the base’s corridors, Skye was excited, but the fears started to hit. “You know, human women can walk during labor, and it’s supposed to help with contractions.” Grant put a hand on her shoulder, “It’s one of those differences your father’s species has with humans. It probably means this time it’s for real, and not just Braxton-Hicks contractions.” 

As they reached Medical, he saw both Fitzsimmonses, and Doctor Banner suited out. Leo was patting what looked like some odd bed/chair thing. “Okay, let’s put Skye here in the birthing chair, and we’ll do the first scan.” An image hologrammed up from the scan device. “Yes, just as I thought!” Jemma said, excitedly. “The semi-cartilaginous material on the sides of her pelvis loosened up in the presence of sufficient oxytocin to start labour! Add that to her loosened pubic bone, and….” She took a measurement, “Little Hope should fit right out of there!” Mack gave Leo a look, “Can you translate that?” Leo Fitzsimmon’s smile was apparent through his surgical mask as he explained, “We were worried that Skye’s birth canal would be too small to pass the baby. But Jemma had a theory that the places on the sides of her pelvis would loosen in pregnancy and/or labour. The pubic bone in human women loosens during pregnancy so that the pelvis can open during birth. Jemma figured those places on the sides were something analogous, especially when the medical data on her father showed he did not have those features.” Mack nodded, comprehending, “So this is why y’all didn’t go find a regular OB-GYN for Skye when she got pregnant.” “Yep,” Banner broke in, “A regular OB-GYN would have had her treated for gestational diabetes and scheduled a C-Section. Both of which could hurt Skye and the baby. Your average OB-GYN doesn’t believe in aliens, and certainly wouldn’t believe a patient of hers would be an alien. The closer we can keep Skye to a natural birth, the more we rely on her body’s natural ability to heal from childbirth.” Skye interrupted, “I hope this means I get some pain relief, here!” Grant stiffened, “Are you hurting yet?” Motion seemed to stop in the room. “Okay, not much more than a bad menstrual cramp right now, but this talk of ‘natural childbirth’ and healing stuff makes me want to go find a crystal somewhere and go ‘om’ or something. This labor thing is supposed to be the worst pain a person goes through, and I don’t like pain if I don’t have to go through it. So please tell me I get an epidural or something!” Leo answered that one, “Relax, both you and Doctor Banner. I have an electronic epidural. It should relieve the pain, but I can turn it right off if it affects her contractions. Just let me know when it gets too much, and we can get it started.” He held up a large needle, and Skye cringed. Jemma snickered, “The drug epidural isn’t any smaller, and the most needle-phobic women in labour are happy to receive it.” Leo snickered, “I think Jemma’s words were, ‘HIT ME DAMMIT!’” 

At this point, Coulson and May walked in. “Sorry we were late. Had a breakfast meeting at a very understaffed café.” May walked over to hold the hand Grant wasn’t holding. “No epidural, and she’s still smiling. We didn’t miss the birth or anything, Phil. Speaking of Phil, where’s the little guy?” Grant and Skye were little Phillip Fitzsimmons’s usual babysitters. “Oh, I left him with Lance. Believe it or not, he’s good with kids,” Leo volunteered. At May’s dubious look, Skye explained, “He had an aunt who was a single mother die of cancer when he was fifteen. So his mother adopted her eighteen-month-old nephew, proceeded to get ill herself, and Lance did a lot of the raising.” Rapid footsteps echoed down the corridor, and the door to the scrub room burst open. After some shuffling, a suited-up Trip burst in, then sat on the nearest stool. “Trip, don’t tell me you ran in my spot at the Marathon, then came right here?” Grant asked incredulously. Trip looked up, “Okay, I won’t tell you. But it looks like you did the right thing skipping out. We only got halfway through before the rains came. Not to mention, you’d have missed all this. It’s only hitting me now.” Grant smiled, “Naah, I love it when it rains during a summer marathon. Keeps me cool for the rest of the run.” Jemma handed Trip a sports bottle with a red substance. “Oh, no thanks on the Gatorade, Jem.” Jemma shook her head, “It’s something a little more potent, and it tastes nothing like Gatorade. It’s something I mixed up for Skye after the birth, but realized I made too much. Drink it or let it expire.” Trip took a sip, then quickly downed the whole bottle. He then grabbed a water bottle. “It’s still nasty, but I’m that dehydrated! Okay, what do y’all need me to do?” Trip did seem to perk up after the drink, and set to his tasks. Skye started to cry, and Grant asked her, “What’s wrong, honey?” 

“It’s just, everybody is looking down there, and I’m all over the screens, and I just feel like I’m on display, and it’s really beginning to hurt. Oh, God!” “I had twice your audience when I had you, Skye. But you sound like you need an epidural,” May answered. Skye nodded, and everybody backed off as Doctor Banner had May and Ward help Skye curl up as he placed the needle. “Engage!” Banner called out, as his hands pulled away. Skye’s legs were placed back in the chair, as she sighed with relief. Everybody stared at the display, whether they understood the readouts or not, for a couple more contractions. Banner smiled. “Okay, no effect on contraction strength. She may even go faster, now that she can relax. We’re only at 4cm, so if there’s somewhere else you have to be, I can have a mass page sent when something happens. Fitz, is that hinge I saw on the birthing chair what I thought it was?” Fitz smiled, pulled out a hasp, and part of the back opened up into a chair for someone willing to sit with Skye’s head in his or her lap. “Not only is this 084 Upright Birthing Chair designed by an actual genius, it’s designed by a father.” After May and Grant looked at each other to decide, Grant scrambled up to the high seat, while May massaged Skye’s feet, and talked about getting through labor on the moments Skye was lucid. Mostly, Skye slept, and everybody else scrambled to various quick duties. Before anyone knew it, Skye snapped awake, and the sound of beeps on cell phones of the medical team echoed as they all crashed through the door. On the display, the print had turned orange, and the number “9 ¾” flashed in red. Skye began to kick. “Whoa, Baby Girl, settle down. Your epidural still working?” Trip asked. Skye looked confused, “Yes, I don’t know why I feel the urge to kick.” As a contraction hit, the kicking started again, and Banner instructed Trip to strap Skye’s legs down. “It’s probably a reflex from her father’s species. Fine if you’re sitting in a cave on whatever planet. Not so good when there’s a medical team you can kick in the head. Wait..” 

A chime went off, as the display went all red. The large “10” on the screen explained why. Jemma grabbed the hand May wasn’t holding, as Grant massaged Skye’s shoulders. “Okay, Skye. Next contraction, I want you to push. Ready, take a breath, hold it, bear down…NOW!” Skye squeezed both hands, Grant curled around her, the straps held through the kicking, and Skye pushed. “Wow, some good progress, Skye! One more time in ten….nine…eight…” Banner called out, and with one more push, as the rest of the team walked in the door, Skye felt as if her entire body was coming apart, but as the contraction ended, she could hear a small cry. Another contraction came, and something fell out with a splat. Jemma’s hand was up in her, checking for any pieces of afterbirth she failed to pass, then Trip unstrapped her legs, curled her up, stretched her out, and checked her hips, as Fitz and Doctor Banner recorded statistics on the baby, bathed her, and handed her to Grant, who had climbed down from the table after giving Skye a kiss. Jemma strapped the largest maxi pad Skye had ever seen to a pair of mesh panties, then grabbed what looked like a blue plastic bowl. Jemma put the panties on Skye, had Trip roll Skye up again, placed the bowl on Skye’s butt, checked Skye’s hips again, injected Skye with something, pulled out the epidural, then had Trip and Mack move Skye to a regular bed. Skye felt every bit of the pain she was missing for a minute before the drug kicked in. Another sport bottle of red stuff appeared by her bedside, and Skye gulped it down, despite the slight bitter notes in the wild cherry-flavored drink. As the drink’s restorative effects kicked in, Grant finally turned towards her with the baby. Hope was quietly looking at her father as tears were streaming down his face. All she could hear from what he was telling his newborn daughter was, “I finally get to meet you, little one.” He handed the girl, with a shock of inky-black hair, to her mother. 

As Jemma helped Skye with the initial breastfeeding, Grant sat on a seat next to the bed, broke down, and cried. He looked up when Fitz put a hand on his shoulder. “Mate, you remember I was carrying on like you were when Little Phillip was born. Those dark times when Jemma was infiltrating HYDRA for us, I never thought I’d see the little mite. Here’s your chance to be a better da than your own da, mate. I suggest you take it.” Grant remembered the even darker days he was having as Fitz had his dark days: The cell, the suicide attempts, the despair, the fear that nobody would listen to him, and he’d only hear of Skye’s death in passing. He feared she would fall into darkness, and he would not be allowed to join her. But here he was, a husband and a new father to a girl he could protect better than he could protect his poor sister. It overwhelmed him to see his hair and Skye’s eyes on such a perfect porcelain doll of a newborn girl. And how she calmed when she heard his voice! She was so smart, she already knew her daddy! Fitz stepped away, and opened another chair in the room, and with a hiss, a mattress popped over the top. “I know you’d prefer to sneak into the bed with Skye, but she can’t get off that bed until the scans show her pelvis is all back together. Sleeping next to you might cause her to sleep in the wrong position to heal. “So I’m in this Butt Bucket until then?” Skye interrupted. “Afraid so,” Jemma answered. “It shouldn’t be for very long. Any species close enough to ours has a similar history, methinks. Your alien ancestresses had to be able to walk again in a short enough time period to get away from whatever that planet’s equivalent of a saber-toothed tiger was. We’ll scan you in 24 hours. In the meantime, I don’t think I have seen May carrying that many bags before.” 

Coulson had to open the door, as Melinda May came in, burdened with presents and shopping bags full of hand-crocheted clothing. She looked as if she had been crying, but washed her face and re-applied her makeup. “Nainai and Yeye are here!” She set down bags of clothing. “Gee, Mom, you have been busy!” May’s eyes were sad again. “I’ve been busy for many years, now. Some of these were…for you.” Phil came up, and hugged Melinda from the back. “And now, they are for Hope!” As the little girl slept after her first feeding, Skye delicately unwrapped the newborn girl, as she grabbed a shorts-and-cardigan set from one of the bags. Melinda grabbed a tissue from the bedside table, and began to dab her eyes. “That was the first outfit I made after I gave you up. I never stopped using my time on stakeouts and the like crocheting little pink outfits for my baby girl.” Skye counted the ten perfect little fingers, and ten long little toes on the sleeping girl. Giving Skye up was Melinda May’s biggest regret, but she felt she needed to keep Skye away from her father. Phil Coulson had carefully taken every piece of May’s he could get his hands on, and put them away for that lovely day his lover and best friend could be reunited with that daughter she missed so much. And now these clothes would clothe Melinda’s granddaughters. “Ooh, Skye. Your feet were more delicate. She has her father’s feet,” Melinda said through a mist of tears. “She’s skinnier than I pictured a baby being, you know,” Skye said, curiously. “Don’t worry, She’s got to be skinny enough to fit coming out, and in a week or so, she’ll plump up, and those cheeks will get chubbier,” Jemma asserted confidently, “Oh, and I’d wait for the first poo before putting that nice outfit on her. If Grant can hold it together, it’ll be your bit of revenge on him for putting you in the family way.” Everybody turned to look at Grant, who was just putting himself back together. “Oi, the rest of us blokes will only supervise,” Leo said, patting Grant on the back, “Mack tells me he saw something nice for us in town, but he’s a bloody superstitious old sailor, so he didn’t get it until he heard the baby was born okay.” Leo pantomimed drinking, and Grant finally smiled. Hope stirred hungrily, and Skye was feeding her again. This time, when she was done, Hope squirmed, wiggled, grunted, and a very unmistakable sound rumbled in her tiny diaper. Everybody turned to Grant, “Showtime!”

Grant managed to clean Hope up, and put her in the little outfit. After dinner, the excitement and exertion of the day had caught up to both Skye and Hope, and after a little while longer letting Skye hold her, Grant put her in the bassinet. By this time, Mack had returned with some of the best cognac Grant had tasted since sneaking a taste of his own father’s stash when he was twelve. He limited himself to one shot glass, as he was going to need to move Hope back and forth for feedings the rest of the night. As Grant settled in on the medbay cot, he was uncomfortably reminded of a cot in a cell not long enough ago. The scars on his wrists twitched with remembered pain. But he let his eyes drift open enough to remind himself that there was no more laser barrier, no more interrogations. There was only his family, the two most important women in the world, sleeping peacefully (for another hour or so). In another day, he would be back in their own bed, holding Skye as she nursed Hope, keeping that silent vow he had made to himself: to be the husband Skye needed and the father Hope needed, to transcend the bad example of his life, and produce a marriage and family he knew would be happier and better than his brother’s or his own father’s. Today was just the beginning.


End file.
